


And All the Stars a Stage

by theclockiscomplete



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4243311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclockiscomplete/pseuds/theclockiscomplete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiny fic set immediately post-Last Christmas. Fluff containing a grumpy Clara and a bored and petulant twelve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And All the Stars a Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. I've not been doing so well mentally- it happens in the spring and summer. I'll be okay, but my willingness to write and my ability to concentrate long enough to do so are suffering, which is why this is so short. If you feel like it, shoot me a prompt at smmcgeek@gmail.com. I think that if I knew there was a demand for a certain kind of fic, I might have an easier time writing it and convincing myself that I am not actually the worst for being unable to get things written. Alternatively, just read the piece and enjoy. that makes me happy too.

Clara woke up to a rhythmic pressure denting her cheek, which turned out to be the Doctor’s long index finger. He was lying on his side in a draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls way, head propped up on one hand and the other still—Clara slapped his hand away and scowled. “Why are you in my bed?”

“Got bored,” the Doctor said, unperturbed. “You’ve been asleep for ages. What’s the point of the TARDIS putting your room in space if you’re never awake to see it?”

Clara yawned. “We’ve had this conversation,” she said. “What time is it?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “You know what I mean,” she said. “Don’t make me push you off the bed.”

“If you’re asking how long you were asleep, about two hours. As for pushing me off the bed, you forget that Time Lords have a finely-tuned—” he gave a undignified—and under many, many other circumstances hilarious—yelp as Clara’s foot caught him in the ribcage and sent him tumbling off the side of the bed.

“Humans need more than two hours of sleep, Doctor. You know this.” And then, hearing no reply and feeling a tiny bit guilty, she leaned over the side of the bed, drawing the duvet around her shoulders. The Doctor was lying on his back, fingers intertwined and hands resting on his stomach. Clara reached out and poked his shoulder. “Hey,” she said. “You okay?”

“No,” the Doctor said, his lips barely moving. “You’ve killed me. I suppose I should have told you sooner that diaphragms are a Time Lord’s only weak point, but I guess there’s no point now.”

Clara threw a pillow at him. “I’m going back to sleep.”

He sat up, gray hair and indignant blue eyes the only things she could see from her curled-up position. “Again? For how long?”

She opened her eyes and glared at him. “Six hours. At least.”

“But Clara—”

“Seven.”

“That’s not—”

“Eight,” she said loudly. He sealed his lips, but his eyebrows creased in what could have been mistaken for fury if he wasn’t the Doctor and she wasn’t his Clara. “And don’t think I can’t go an entire twenty-four,” she continued. “More if I caught a cold from running around in the snow with you in my nightie, or brought back some weird old-person disease.”

“That was a dream!” he burst out. Clara raised a cool eyebrow. He threw up his hands. “Fine,” he said. “Come aboard a time machine with your best friend and go straight to bed. Be my guest. I’ll just…go and read a—” he paused and looked down. Clara had the sleeve of his jumper between two fingers and was looking at him pointedly. “Oh no,” he said, but he didn’t pull away. “I don’t need sleep.”

“But you can,” Clara said simply. “I’m exhausted, you’re bored, and we can fix both of these things very easily.” He hesitated. “Besides,” she added. “I did miss you.”

The Doctor groaned and allowed her to pull him down onto the bed with her, defeated. He didn’t say he’d missed her too; there was no need. They were beyond words most of the time anyway. He tensed when Clara squirmed up next to him and used the crook of his shoulder as a headrest, but as he shut down the expendable parts of his mind for a rest, he couldn’t help but notice that the stars above seemed more beautiful than he could remember seeing them before.

 


End file.
